Los Lobos

Kiko

Slash/Warner, 1992

It's rare to have a group that's been around as Los Lobos have, and
produced as many albums as they have, to come out with an album that
leaves me dumbfounded. That's exactly what East LA's favorite sons
have done here. They've taken the elements that make up their sound -
David Hidalgo's aching ballads, Cesar Rosas' blues stompers, Mexican
folk instruments and melodies -- taken them apart, and reassembled them
into something noone's ever heard before. The result is strange,
beautiful, and haunting. Producer Mitchell Froom has talked about
how the collective vision for this project was to break free of the
"tyranny of the band", to avoid doing things the way they've always
been done -- in that they have certainly succeeded.

From the opening "Dream In Blue", with its insistent percussion,
blues guitar riffs, and unision flute/baritone sax lines, it's
obvious that there are some new textures in play. "Wake Up
Dolores" features unearthly backing vocals. "Angels With Dirty
Faces" is built around an strange drum loop that pulls against
the rhythm of the melody in a fascinating way. "That Train Don't
Stop Here" is a more typical Rosas rocker, and brings us at least
partway back to earth, but the very understated drum part creates
extra tension. Next comes "Kiko and the Lavendar Moon", with a
hornlike keyboard riff reminiscent of a jazz big band calling and
responding to a distinctly Mexican accordion sound. "Saint Behind
The Glass" is perhaps my favorite track of all, a fragile and beautiful
song augmented with Veracruz harp and featuring a haunting vocal
(from drummer Louie Perez, I think -- at least, it doesn't sound
like either Rosas or Hidalgo). And that's just the first six tracks
out of sixteen! I could go on and on -- there's not a weak track
in the bunch.

Without question this is Los Lobos' finest album to date, and a
real masterpiece. They've come up with an extremely strong set
of songs and, with the aid of Froom, have recorded them in
highly imaginative ways without ever obscuring the strengths of
the songs themselves.